Follow Orders
by Little-Lola2616
Summary: The awkward humour and angst of Sam's teenage years for Dean and Sam. Originally a oneshot, now a timeline. Includes arguments, hunts, fun times and Hurt! on both sides. John will be present in some chapters.
1. Prologue

"Hey, what's with the face?" An 17 year old Dean Winchester lazily asked his scowling younger brother.

"What's with _your_ face?" The immature teen snapped back, thinking the remark was clever.

Well it certainly wasn't. At least that's what Dean thought. The last time he had to baby-sit his brother like this was four years ago when Sam was still a well behaved and quiet little boy. Now he was an adolescent nightmare, protesting to hunts by acting cocky and annoying. Especially when their father wasn't with the brothers, Dean found it a lot harder to intimidate Sam as the years went by, as he grew to realise in horror that his brother was reaching his height.

Although he was younger back then and was a lot less confident in protecting Sam, Dean missed those days, where had his polite and admittedly cute baby brother gone?

The rain drummed down against the single glazed window of the cheap motel room, making the room freezing. Dean ignored the surroundings of the faded painted walls and dusty carpet and turned on the TV plonking down on one of the single beds. The noise was quiet and the screen kept fading but it was still entertainment, and Dean was grateful.

What he was not grateful for, however, was Sam's ability to sigh louder than the TV. Dean ignored this until Sam huffed again, even louder.

"Is there something you want to say?" Dean asked calmly with his eyebrows raised, despite his rising temper.

"How can you go along with the hunts so easily?" Sam immediately answered. Dean rolled his eyes.

"God not this again Sammy."

"I mean, don't you ever feel bad? Or scared or even angry?"

"I feel angry you won't shut up and let me watch some damn TV, we've been on the road for days and I'm asking for a little peace and quiet." Dean said straight back, turning his head back to the TV.

"Yeah well that's not my fault."

"I am not getting into this argument again." Dean retorted simply, ending the conversation. Lately all Sam did was complain about being on the road, it was driving him crazy, not to mention his father who would often have heated 'talks' with his younger sibling.

"I'm going." Sam said also simply, getting up off the other single bed and heading for the door.

Alarm rose slightly in Dean's voice. "Hey…hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm climbing the walls man I just need to get out for a few hours, what's the big deal Dad won't be back from buying ammo for ages yet."

Sam's wanting to leave reminded Dean of a painful memory of abandoning Sam in the same way and almost resulting in his death touched a raw nerve, and he shot up grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him back.

"You are not going anyway Sammy. Dad's order. _My _orders."

"Well I won't have to take them for much longer by the time I'm sixteen I'll be taller than you and I won't have to listen to you."

"Oh yeah right, and what are you implying? That would could beat _me_ in a fight or something?" Dean scoffed, the idea of it was laughable, it was pure madness. Sam was a klutz, although brainy could be caught off guard pretty easily. Heck Dean knew after being on hunting trips with him.

"I bet I could, you're- you're just- nothing! You're just a bore and a- a follower of orders." Sam said eventually, coming up with his best thought insult yet. Apparently.

"Well if you're so sure then take me on now." Dean said, smirking. Sam looked panicked.

"What, now?" He said, his sure smile faltering.

"Why not, Dad's not here to give me any orders not to, I'll show you what nothing can do." Dean answered, enjoying tormenting his brother like that and standing as tall as he could. He wondered if he could scare his brother into being quiet, either way this was fun.

Sam backed away into the wall. "I'll tell him! Then he'll lay into you." He threatened as a last resort.

"Oh I don't know. I could twist the story, tell him the tale of how you lashed out and tried to run off, and that I only hurt you so I could keep you safe."

"That's not!- He wouldn't-…oh fine whatever!" Sam said quickly before interrupting himself.

"You really are smart then." Dean laughed and sat back down on the bed slowly, grinning. "I wasn't really going to hurt you, you know."

"Yeah 'cos you're so short." Sam said loudly.

There was a brief silence.

Dean sighed and leant over the bed and unzipped his bag, after rummaging about it he produced a roll of duct tape. "Then again, I know you too well to keep your mouth shut."

He was up next to his brother in seconds, tripping him up on the floor, Sam yelped with the sudden attack and the brothers ended up in a heap on the floor pounding on each other with a series of attack and defence sequences.

Eventually Dean saw an opening and with some strength flipped Sam onto his back, promptly sitting on top of him.

"You said you weren't going to hurt me!" Sam wailed, his face in the mouldy carpet.

"Yeah… you changed my mind." Dean sighed but couldn't help smiling at his squirming brothers misfortune, forcing his hands behind his back and wrapping duct tape around them quickly, snapping it off the roll.

He moved down to the bottom of Sam's legs and untidily wrapped more duct tape around him.

Sam turned over and sat up struggling.

"You have got to be kidding!"

"Last chance to apologise Sammy. What's it going to be?" Asked Dean breathlessly after capturing the thirteen year old, ripping off one more strip from the tape.

Sam's eyes darted from Dean, to the tape and the door, scowling.

"… Dad is going to kill you."

Dean pouted, shrugging. He pressed the tape over Sam's mouth in a quick action then jumped off the floor and back onto the bed.

"Aww, I missed my show." He said, disappointed. He turned to Sam who was on his side, frowning up at him. "It's okay I forgive you."

Dean laughed then turned up the TV. He looked out the window, it was still raining.

After a muffled grunt Dean turned his attention back to Sam who glared at him.

"It's okay I'm not going to leave you like that. But like you said, Dad won't be back for ages, and I could do with a little peace and quiet." Sam looked mortified. "Oh no, don't you try those puppy dog eyes on me or I'll put tape over your eyes… Oh and the floors dusty so you might want to sit up."

Sam did so, still scowling and not attempting to speak.

Dean chuckled. "Now who follows the orders?"


	2. Prologue: Part 2

The first chapter was a little funny oneshot I did about a year ago.

But I have a few vague oneshot ideas, and I thought to myself, why not smush them together into a little timeline for the Winchester characters?

* * *

"I don't care what you were arguing about Dean, I do not expect you to treat your brother like that." John Winchester lectured, albeit his tired voice held a careless tone. The upcoming hunt tonight was more on his mind than his squabbling sons. He looked up as they passed a road sign. Not long until the next town. He hoped the motels there would be cheaper than the last.

"What's the big deal? It's not like it hurt him." Dean argued, leaning back against the car seat, his tone also casual.

Sam scoffed loudly from the back seat, sitting up straight with his arms tightly folded, the least relaxed about the situation. He caught his own reflection in the rearview mirror, the bottom half of his aching face had faded to a pink colour now.

Dean frowned at Sam's disagreement. "Well I didn't _know_ his skin would react to the tape like that." He explained, excusing himself. He leant over and fiddled with the radio station. John slapped his hand away.

"My car. My music." He said shortly.

"Aw come on Dad. Besides, didn't you promise me the Impala one day?"

"Yeah, one day."

"But when?"

"When I think you're responsible enough."

"I am responsible." Dean insisted grumpily. He nodded his head to the backseat. "I look after him don't I?"

"When you learn that taping up Sammy isn't 'looking after him' I'll think about it." John said, ending the conversation.

"Could you turn that music down? I've got a headache." Sam complained from the back.

Dean rolled his eyes. Even when their dad was defending him he found something to moan about. "Bitch, bitch, bitch." He muttered, imitating Sam.

"What did you say?" Sam said loudly.

"I said you're a whiny little bitch." Dean replied, his voice matching Sam's volume.

John cringed in his seat. It wasn't often Sam and Dean fought. Sure they squabbled and had disagreements, but when they were both up for it, their arguments could be just as explosive as the ones he had with Sam.

"What do you expect? I was tied up for almost two hours!" Sam said angrily.

"Oh you think that's so tough you haven't seen the hunts me and Dad have been through." Dean spat back.

"That's not my problem!"

"Yes it is Sam! Why do you think I put myself through this?" Dean shouted, his voice bouncing off the enclosed space of the Impala. "I do it to protect you, to protect people like you. People like Mom!"

"That's enough!" John barked. His voice did not reach the same volume as Sam and Dean's but his feelings were clear. "Cut it out you two, if you can't get along just keep quiet."

Dean shook his head and tried to expel the rest of his rage into a deep sigh. In the back of the car Sam's nails cut into his arms as he stared grimly out the window.

The rest of the journey was made in silence.

* * *

"You've got Caleb's number right?"

"Right!" Sam snapped. That was the fifth time his dad had checked with him. He kept his back to him, sitting at the table reading through one of Dean's old high school text books. History. Long ago, something really dull happened in England with an old guy who had the hugest wart on his face. At least that was how Dean described it, but Sam seemingly couldn't get enough of it. John shook his head at how different his sons were despite their upbringing being so similar.

"Don't use that tone with me." John said, pointing a finger at his youngest. Why did he do it? Didn't he realize that he just wanted to keep him safe?

"Yeah, yeah."

"Sam." John warned.

"Yes sir."

"Okay, we'll be back later. Don't wait up."

"Er, wait a second." Sam's tone was urgent.

"What?"

"Eh, nothing." His voice faltered.

"Come on tell me." John insisted.

"It's just, er, are we going to be in this town long enough for me to find a school?"

John cleared his throat; secretly his chest ached a little at the innocent question. "I'm not sure Sam. We'll see."

He clapped him on the shoulder before heading out the motel with Dean. Said Winchester had been leaning against the door frame in silence. He followed his father out of the room and slammed the door shut, not bothering to say goodbye to Sam.

* * *

Sam's eyes snapped open as he felt the draft of the hallway come in from the door being opened quickly. He sat up quickly, his heart thudding. Deep breathing filled the room, and Sam couldn't make out the strange shape by the door.

"Dad?" He said uneasily, his voice hoarse from sleepy.

"It's okay Sammy." His father grunted. The light switch was flicked on.

Sam squinted and rubbed his eyes.

Only two words escaped Sam's lips before he froze completely. "Oh god."

Blood was trickling down the side of John's face. He had his eldest son hanging unsteadily over his shoulder. Dean's shirt was soaked with blood and was dripping from his back. Sam couldn't see his face, but he knew by how still he was that he was unconscious.

His breath was caught in his throat; he stared at his bleeding brother, horrified.

John felt Sam's fear, it silently crept across the room and tensed his already strained muscles. He caught his eye and said carefully, "Sammy, I want you to get out the first aid kit in the bottom draw, can you do that?"

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes still wide open with shock. He didn't move.

"Sammy, come on."

"R-right."

Jumping out of bed, Sam followed his father's orders.

A little over an hour later, Dean lay on the small motel bed over the moth eaten cover asleep. He had a fever, sweat covered his face and bandages adorned his torso. Sam couldn't take his eyes off him. They had been unfortunate, there had been a second ghost –twice as aggressive- in that old warehouse, that meant there was another body to be salt and burned, another mystery to solve. And they had been lucky, the cuts weren't too deep, and the scars would fade. Dean would sleep off the pain killers and he would wake up. Everything was alright.

But if this was the case, Sam asked himself, then why couldn't he stop shaking? Was it the sight of blood? No, he had seen his father come back from hunts battered before. Sam just wasn't used to seeing the blood on Dean. Not him, not his big brother. When John and Dean went on serious hunts Sam was usually left at Pastor Jim's or Calebs. Or anywhere. Just away from his family. It upset him at the time, but he had never considered how dangerous and scary it must have bee for Dean. Sam took note of John's calmness and knowledge of the wounds, did this sort of thing happen a lot?

All anger towards Dean was forgotten. Sam would have much preferred them to be arguing and pissing each other off than this.

Dean shifted, frowning slightly. A ghost of a moan escaped his lips.

"Dean?"

"Let him sleep, Sam."

His father appeared to be filling his gun with rock salt.

"Dad?"

"I've got to go finish this. It's worse than I thought." John replied to the unspoken question.

"You're going to leave us here alone?" Sam stuttered, stumbling off the small armchair he had pulled from the corner to Dean's bed.

John sighed regretfully. "Sammy I have to. If I don't more people are going to get hurt. You don't want that to happen do you?"

All the tension Sam had been building up from the bottom of his stomach from the past hour expelled out of his mouth. "How you can play that card after _Dean_ got hurt? What about Dean? What the hell happened?"

John stood in the doorway with his back to his sons. A few seconds passed and he said quietly, "He didn't follow my orders."

The door shut with a quiet snap, and Sam stood staring at it. How long for he didn't know, but he finally came to a conclusion.

He could deal with his father yelling, and his brother tying him up with tape that hurt his skin. He didn't have to follow their orders.

But when the time came for him to be by their side in all the violence and fear and mystery of the toughest hunt they'd face, Sam would be there. And he would follow every order that came from his father's lips.

* * *

So you like? Next chapter they will probably be a little older. Thanks for reading!


	3. Third wheel

Thank you for the reviews, they make me so happy!

Hope you like this chapter! Sammy is the third wheel for Dean's disastrous date.

* * *

One thing that Sam Winchester was forced to admit about himself was that he was _not_ a lady's man. In fact at fourteen, he wasn't even a man yet. He was tall though! Sam hoped that may count as being mature.

He just couldn't talk to girls, he didn't know how! What would he talk to them about? Shoes? Clothes? Er, other girly things? No, no, no, he didn't know a thing about that. The weather? No! That was way too dull.

And there was no way he was going to put on the whole 'how you doing I'm Joey Tribbiani' front like Dean did.

No, Sam Winchester was not good with girls.

Especially with Dean's girls.

His elder brother was currently sitting at the wheel of the Impala, making some blonde girl –Connie was it?- laugh incredibly loudly. Which was damn annoying because her giggle sounded like a little dog barking.

Here Sam was, lying on his back of the Impala, staring up at the roof trying to imagine he was somewhere else. It was a hot day and they were parked outside some diner, his back was sticking to the leather seats. He sighed. Loudly.

Dean raised his eyebrows but didn't take his eyes of Connie. "Is there something you want to say Sammy?"

"This sucks." He said plainly.

Dean ignored him and leant closer to Connie. "You mind if I go use the restroom?" He nodded to the diner.

She smiled and shook her head. "No."

Dean flashed her one of his irresistible grins. "'Atta girl. Back in five." He hopped out the car. Sam sat up and moodily watched him walk away with a spring in his step. At least the fact that Dad wouldn't let them be apart wasn't affecting _some people_.

Connie sniffed and started going through her handbag.

Sam closed his eyes. His tongue was so dry, how long had Dean been on this date for? It felt like forever.

"It's so hot today." He commented.

Connie didn't reply, she continued sorting through her bag.

Sam scowled. He was sick of being ignored and he was sick of tagging along every time Dean went out this week. And then inspiration hit him. Maybe he couldn't talk to girls very well, but he knew one topic that Connie wouldn't be able to resist.

"So you like Dean, don't you Isabelle?" He started innocently.

"My name's not Isabelle." She replied, fishing out a mirror.

Sam pretended to be embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Of course. Amy!"

Connie raised an eyebrow. "It's Connie, actually."

"Oh." Sam said. He twiddled his thumbs. "Sorry, it's just hard to keep up, you know." He pretended to cough.

Connie paused, no she didn't know. "What do you mean by that?"

Sam let out a sarcastic laugh. "What? You honestly think you've found a good looking guy who drives a car who says he's experienced, knows how to get into the best clubs _and_ wants a serious relationship? How naive are you?" He finished spitefully.

Connie took the mirror out in front of her and checked her appearance. "I don't believe you." She said confidently. The brat had been complaining all day, this had to be some sort of revenge. She pouted playfully at her reflection.

"Fine!" Sam said, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back. "Seriously though, I'm on your side -and every other girl he meets up with. I'm sick of what he puts innocent young women like you through."

"Whatever." She said icily.

"Although," he said deviously, more evil ideas coming to mind, "he likes to think he gets a lot of girls because he's popular. But from what I heard from the fight he had with his last girlfriend, I reckon they all leave him after his poor performance…If you know what I mean."

Connie laughed her high pitched dog laugh. But it was a nervous one. "Dean? As if!"

Sam shook his head. "I'm serious! He reels them in with his confidence, and I'm sure he must be decent up to second base. But what was it his last girlfriend said to him?" He considered the imaginary memory. "Something along the lines of, 'never being able to get it up'."

Connie's jaw dropped. "Do you even know what that means?" Sam caught her eye in the rearview mirror, his face deadly serious.

"I'm fourteen. Not four."

Connie wrinkled her nose at the thought. The inner Sam was on his back laughing his head off, but on the outside his face was deadpan. It was time to put the final nail into the coffin. Sam took a deep breathe.

"And let's not forget that STD he's got." He said earnestly.

This time Connie squawked with shock. "Excuse me?"

Sam gasped. "What he didn't tell you?"

Connie shook her head, dumb with shock.

"Huh. Well, he at least made it clear he wanted to use protection…right?"

Connie looked uncertain. "Uh…"

Sam leant forward and gave her a pitying look. "Trust me on this. I _know_ my brother, and as much as I love him… he's not a great guy. To girls at least. I think his philosophy is something like, 'use them and abuse them'." He patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. "Good luck taming that wild beast."

Connie stared at him, horrified. She transferred that look to Dean who was coming back from the diner. He waggled his eyebrows and smiled her way.

Connie's face dropped to a hideous glare. She got out the car and slammed the door shut. Storming towards him, she began yelling so loud that even Sam could hear from the inside of the Impala. He rolled his eyes, even her yelping sounded like a little dog. Dean held out his arms innocently, looking confused. He said something casually, and Connie replied by slapping him across the face. Dean didn't flinch much at it, but the shock on his face said it all for Sam, whose mouth hung open at the action as well.

Connie slung her handbag over her shoulder and flounced off with her nose in the air. Dean felt his cheek looking utterly dumbfounded. Then he looked over at the car. His eyes met with Sam.

His confusion turned into oblivion.

"Shit!" Sam squeaked, and scrambled out the car. He broke into a run, not looking back or bothering to close the door.

"Sam!" Dean screeched, chasing after him.

* * *

Sam ran. He ran so fast his mind couldn't process any thoughts all except one.

_I wish I'd thought this through…_

Not good.

Dean was a faster runner, and he was pissed, which meant that he caught up pretty quickly. Sam dodged through people, around benches and bins and even ended up jumping over a running dog. Still he could hear Dean's furious voice not far behind.

"You are so dead! You are _so_ dead!"

Really not good.

Sam really wasn't thinking; all he could do was run. Sprinting across a busy road Sam knew Dean would follow him, but as he whipped his head around in time to see Dean cross the street, and it was then that he noticed the stop light wasn't red and just how many cars were scattered in the road.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to warn him, but Dean didn't understand.

His face was lit with rage, he slowed down and thundered, "You stupid…" He was cut off as a car accelerating past slowed down in front of him suddenly, and Dean had been so focused on his brother that he walked straight into it. His face rebounded off of it and his arms flew back, throwing him to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam shouted again, running into the street. Cars beeped but he ignored them, running to Dean's side who sat in the road clutching his head, swearing colourfully. Without another word from either of them Sam grabbed him around the shoulders and helped him stand, they darted in between cars that beeped furiously.

As soon as they were on the pavement Dean swapped the roles and took Sam by his shoulders. He pulled him over to the building opposite and pushed him against the brick wall.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Dean demanded, his bleeding face inches away from a cringing Sam. Dean slapped him but only softly; even when furious with Sam he found it hard to hurt him.

"Get off of me!" Sam said through gritted teeth.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Sam laughed in Dean's face. "Dad! He's not here! And he said he would be. And he's got me sitting in the car with you all day while you go on crappy dates and ignore me! And I know, _I know_ I can't complain because he's saving peoples lives and I wouldn't have it any other way but," his voice rose in distress, "that doesn't mean it doesn't bother me!"

"So what? You think it doesn't bother me either?" Dean countered.

"Well you don't act like it!" Sam yelled. When Dean only glared at him, wondering where all this anger was coming from all of a sudden Sam went on. "Even now! You've got me up against a wall over something stupid like a girl! What, does that bother you more than hunting, or following dad's orders? Or salting and burning corpses?"

"Sammy, shut the hell up." Dean hissed, his eyes shifting to the suspicious onlookers passing by.

"No! It's all true and you know it!" Sam was almost screaming now. He thrashed wildly and tried to push past his brother.

Dean grabbed Sam's face and forced him to look at him; he ignored all the stares from strangers now.

"You don't know anything." He whispered, hating how little Sam understood and at the same time how much.

Sam blinked his building tears, saying nothing.

"You think dad told me to take you around with me while he was gone? He didn't. He didn't have to! He knew I'd do it myself."

Sam exhaled shakily, surprise widening his eyes. "You could have told me that."

Dean carried on in a low, powerful voice. "You think I'm pissed at you 'cos you lost me a date? I'm more friggin' annoyed that you just ran straight into a road full of cars and trucks you idiot!" He shouted the last few words, and then roughly released Sam.

He rubbed his face, staring hard at Dean, guilt plagued his features, fighting the geek inside him that wanted to point out the fact that it was Dean who got hurt on the roads, not him. Dean had his hands on his hips and turned away from Sam, trying to keep it together.

Sam edged away from the wall. "Dean… you don't have to do that. If I'm old enough to hunt then I'm old enough now to go out on my own instead of with you or left alone in some motel room."

Dean shook his head and brought his sleeve to his bleeding forehead. "Don't." He couldn't let Sam know that he completely disagreed. Even though Sam was accompanying them on more and more hunts, getting into more danger, Dean didn't like it. He was still too young, even if he himself had started hunts before he was fourteen. Dean didn't like it at all. But Dad seemed eager for Sam to learn, and if Dean couldn't stop that then he would just have to protect him and watch out for him. When on hunts and when off.

Turning to face a now timidly standing Sam, Dean flicked his head. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To find Connie, and you're going to tell her that everything you said was a vicious and messed up lie."

Sam groaned. "Then what?"

"Then you're gonna get lost."

Sam stopped. "Really?" He asked eagerly.

"Well I can't have you around when she makes it up to me, who knows what you'd see."

"Um, ew."

Dean grinned. "Whatever. But Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean hesitated. "Promise me… you'll come back."

Sam frowned at the comment. "Dean of course I will. I'll always come back." He reassured him honestly.

"Always?" Dean said in a joking voice, but they both secretly knew he was asking seriously.

Sam nodded confidently. "Always."

And Sam stayed true to his promise for years to come.

* * *

So what did you think? Please so tell! Thanks for reading x


	4. Arguments and Alcohol

Thank you for reviews! They make me so, so happy! I hope you like this chapter, it's a little more angsty than humourous this time around, but next chapter I'll make it funnier hopefully.

* * *

Dean leaned back in his seat, feet resting up on the table next to his Dad's journal and yesterday's lunch. The motel rooms always got messy when their father was away. Dean was enjoying a rare day inside doing nothing in between the hunts, usually he'd be out at a bar releasing all his tension with a very helpful woman. Dean liked helpful women. He also found that lately he was beginning to like hunts more and more; he was growing faster and stronger with every case. Dean glanced at the clock, almost 8 o'clock. Sam would be back soon, the little geek was never late. Not that he would stand for it if he was. There was a harsh knock on the door, and Dean jumped at the noise, his feet shifted and knocked the journal to the ground.

"No house keeping, thank you!" Dean droned the same words he said practically every day of his life.

The door knocked again.

"I said no, thank you!" He said again, a little less patiently. He knew it wasn't Sam, he had keys. He lifted up the journal and pushed it back onto the table.

"Dean." Dean's mouth dropped at the sound of the voice behind the door.

"Dad?" He called back warily.

He wandered over to the peep hole, his vision confirmed the voice. Unlocking the door, Dean faced his weary father. He patted him on the shoulder and stepped into the room, dropping his equipment on the bed nearest -Dean's of course.

"I thought you wouldn't be back for another few days." Dean stuttered.

John rubbed his tired face and pulled off his jacket. "Finished up early, you sound over the moon about it." He looked around the room. "Kept the place tidy I see."

Dean failed to raise a smile or return the sarcasm.

"Where's Sammy?"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. Here we go... "Not here."

John's tone changed immediately. "What? Where is he?"

"Out. With friends."

"Who?"

Dean scratched his head. "I don't really know." He replied sincerely.

John stared at the useless information. "I told you to look after him!"

Dean looked back apologetically. He argued meekly, "Dad, he's fifteen..."

"I know how old he is!" John snapped. He pulled out his phone and began dialing Sam's number.

But there was no need. The sound of a key turning in a lock came from the door and Sam entered the room, a look of shock registered on his face as he saw John in the middle of the room.

"Dad! I-I thought you weren't back till Monday..."

* * *

Sitting on the hood of the Impala looking up at the night sky, Dean listened to the angry muffled voices of father and son inside the motel room. The humidity of the summer air made his leather jacket uncomfortable on his skin, but Dean would never take it off, right now. He shook his head at their voices which had been steadily increasing in volume. He had refused to get involved with this argument this time around, it always ended with both his Dad and his brother somehow annoyed with him. It was so unfair, he knew it was his job to hunt, and he knew it was his job to look after Sam, but he couldn't deal with being the referee in the fights that happened nearly every time Sam and John were together. Did he have to pick a side? Who did he have to blame? Sam's pitch soared in distress as John bellowed back. Dean slid of the car and slipped inside. He pulled out his car keys and started the engine. He had to get out of here.

* * *

Sam's head snapped up at the well known sound of the Impala's engine. He walked over to the window and pulled back the thin curtains. He saw Dean's silhouette step out of the car. Sam walked away and picked up his phone.

It was his dad's answer machine, as always.

"It's Sam. He's back."

He then hung up; Sam didn't need to nor particularly want to talk more to his father.

Sam heard Dean clumsily move the key around in the lock, and he turned to face the opening door, curling his fists. It annoyed him that Dean would always badger him about going out and staying safe, and he just walked out the house and not returned any calls for almost four hours.

The door swung open to reveal Dean leaning against the door frame.

"Slut!" He yelled enthusiastically.

Sam was lost for words.

Dean giggled with a goofy look on his face. "Oh my god, I just called you slut instead of Sam!" He went on to roar with laughter. Sam shushed him and hurried to the door, pulling his brother in and closing it.

"Are you crazy?" Sam hissed. "It's late, you'll wake the neighbours!"

"Ah, Sammy. Little Sammy. You're always worrying about crap that doesn't matter!" Dean slurred, rocking on the spot.

Sam turned away from Dean's strong breath. "Have you been drinking?" Sam cringed inside, he sounded so old!

"Have you been reading?" Dean retorted.

Sam raked a hand through his hair; he didn't know how to deal with a drunk person at all, he had never seen Dean like this. "Dad's going to kill you, he's been out looking for you for a long time! And you've been out at a bar getting drunk. It figures!"

"I'm not drunk!" He insisted haughtily. "I can handle myself, I know when I've had enough to- Oh a pillow mint!" He said gleefully, diving onto the bed to reach the small sweet.

"Dean, no!" Sam pried the object out of Dean's fumbling fingers. "That's not a pillow mint, that's a button from my jacket that fell off earlier!"

Dean was looking down curiously at his now empty hands. "Did I eat it already?" He asked himself.

Sam rolled his eyes. He tapped Dean on the shoulder. "Look, it's getting late... Why don't you get into bed?"

Dean gasped happily. "Why don't I get _on_ the bed?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean jumped over and onto the small bed and began bouncing furiously. "I haven't done this since I was like, four!" He yelled gleefully.

Sam shrieked and trying to pull him back down. "Dean, you'll break it!"

Dean ignored him, and carried on blathering. His shoes created prints on the crumpled bed cover. "I always used to annoy Dad, he'd come in crossly telling me I'd wake you up and then Mom would be there and she…she…" he trailed off, and suddenly dropped onto the bed. The springs groaned in protest. He gave Sam a lost expression. "She'd always calm us both down." He said quietly. Sam looked silently on. Then Dean's face shifted. "You!" He barked.

Sam inched closer despite his fear. "Uh, yeah?"

"You!" Dean said again. "You and Dad think I'm Mom!"

"Well you think I'm a slut." Sam countered, unsure of where Dean was going with this.

Dean frowned at him, apparently now unaware or uncaring of his previous mistake. "I am just _so_ sick of you and Dad sometimes." He said slowly. "You argue, you scream you fight and when it can't be resolved you both turn to me expecting me to do something about it. I try so hard with to protect you and look after you, keep Dad happy, do my hunts right so why can't I just say 'screw it' when it comes to normal family affairs? Why not?" He reached out and gripped Sam's shoulders, shaking them. Sam only replied with widened, worried eyes. Dean carried on desperately. "I want to make it better but I can't! I want this to be easier but there's nothing I can do to make it better!" He was shouting now. "And the worst thing of all is knowing that Mom would be able to! Well I'm not Mom! I'm not! I'm me!"

There was banging from behind the wall, along with a disgruntled voice. "Keep it down!" The sound filled the room over the silence between the brothers.

"I know you're not." Sam whispered.

Dean released him and looked down. "I gotta look after you, I have to look after you. Sammy I _want_ to look after you but I…"

"It's okay." Sam reassured him. "It's okay" He said again, only more surely this time. He patted Dean cautiously on the shoulder.

Dean's shining eyes met with Sam's. "Yeah…"

"Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. I'll wait up for dad."

Without another word Dean flopped back onto the bed and turned over, following his little brother's orders.

Sam strolled over to the bathroom and shut the door softly. He looked in the mirror and adjusted his hair slightly. He then leant over the sink and bowed his head. Sam began to cry.

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think.

LL x


	5. Dean laughed

Hey ho! I've had quite a few people favourite or alert this story since the last chapter, so I'm really happy to know people are still reading! Thank you so much!

Here is the next chapter, I hope you like it! Sam is fifteen and Dean is twenty by now.

* * *

Dean flicked through the magazine in his lap nervously, not even glancing at it. He was sitting cross legged on his bed, listening to the shower run. It was early in the morning, and Dean had gotten up in the middle of the night -tiptoeing quietly around Sam's bed- to set up this latest prank. As the running water filled his ears, Dean briefly wondered if his latest prank was a little extreme. And then he was reminded with the last stunt Sam had pulled. Dean's mind only touched the incredibly embarrassing memory, but he still cringed. Two things came to mind. A date with the beautiful Kirsten Applewhite, and laxatives.

Dean's attention was caught by the water suddenly being shut off. He leaned forward on his bed and stared at the stained bathroom door. He heard a low growl, and then a panicked wail. Dean sniggered as Sam started to shout from behind the door.

"My _hair!_ Oh my god! Oh my god, MY HAIR!" Sam shrieked as Dean heard him shuffling about. As he heard his brother's footsteps reach the door and turn the handle, he held the book up in front of his face and pretended to read. The magazine shook in his hands as he tried to conceal his laughter.

The door swung open, banging against the wall and rebounding. Sam stood drenched, a towel hastily hung around his waist, the short height and chubby days were long behind the youngest Winchester. He clutched the towel with one hand and held the other up to his hair.

Or what was left of it.

"Dean!" He screamed furiously.

"...Yes?"

Sam lowered his voice, but the anger was still loud and clear. "I will give you fifty bucks if you can look at me right now and deny you had anything to do with this."

Dean turned a page, not lowering the book.

Sam flared his nostrils. "A hundred."

Slowly, the magazine came down revealing a wide eyed Dean, cheeks sucked in from biting the insides to stop a smile forming. He looked at his furious brother and his thinned out hair. Several bald patches were visable and some tufts of wet hair were still scattered around his neck.

Dean began to shake, his face screwing up as he bent over until his forehead was touching the mattress.

Sam's chin quivered. "What are the kids gonna say at school?"

At this miserable comment, Dean sucked in a deep breath and roared with laughter. He bounced back on the bed and shoved the magazine on top of his face, still screaming joyfully.

Sam joined in with a horrified scream.

* * *

Dean laughed.

He laughed when Sam was with him and he laughed when he was not.

He laughed in the morning and he laughed at night.

He laughed in the shower, and he laughed in the car.

Dean laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Not only did he laugh, but Dean chuckled and chortled, he cackled and crowed, he giggled and sniggered and guffawed.

Dean laughed.

Sam cried.

* * *

"You are twenty, Dean. Twenty years old!" Sam complained loudly.

The diner was busy in the lunch hours, but Sam and Dean had been lucky to find themselves a small table, surrounded by chatter and the noises of the kitchen opposite them. Sam tugged the baseball cap down further over his head and looked over his shoulder, paranoid.

"Woud you stop doing that no one's noticing." Dean said with a raised eyebrow. It had taken him almost an hour to convince Sam to come outside and by then his stomach was rumbling. Sam replied by pulling up the menu in front of his face, refusing to look at Dean.

"What, now you're not gonna talk?"

"Dad's going to kill you." Sam said hatefully.

"Now where have I heard that before? Sam stop being a girl, it's just hair."

"I look like a freak!" Sam cried, his voice growing louder. At this statement several people turned their heads but Sam didn't appear to notice.

Dean grinned. "What's that got to do with your hair?"

"That is _not_ funny." He sounded more upset than ever.

Dean rolled his eyes, his mean mood particularly due to their father had told Dean and Sam they were not to leave the town they were in, keen on his sons to lie low after a brush with the an even more dangerous than usual and undefeated werewolf. John had gone to get back up in the form of the helpful Bobby Singer, and the twenty year old Dean had been forbidden to go after the werewolf alone like some kid. Like Sam."Man you just got to get over yourself...Here I'll do it for you." He briskly stood up from his chair and whipped the hat off Sam's head.

Sam slapped his hands over his head and hissed quickly, "Dean give it back."

Twirling the hat in his fingers Dean replied with a simple, "No."

"Dean, give it _back_!" He shouted the last word and shot up, snatching the cap and thrusting it back over his head.

They both looked around slowly at everyone in the diner. Little had they known, all eyes had been on them as they argued. The whole place had fallen silence at Sam's distress and his almost bald head.

Dean smiled sheepishly as he flickered his eyes over the spectators. "Nothing to see here, folks." He tried to say as cheerfully as possibly.

Folding his arms and drooping his head Sam muttered, "This is so humiliating."

Dean retorted quietly, "Can it, baldy."

At this point, an aging waitress spoke up, "What a horrible boy!"

At the back someone agreed disgustedly, "Picking on a poor cancer sufferer."

Several voices mumbled at this, all looking at Dean in a disappointed manner.

Dean's eyes widened. "What? No, he's not bald 'cos of chemotherapy-" He started, but was interrupted by the cook from behind the kitchen.

"Get that scum out of my restaurant!" He declared, and the rest of the restaurant cheered in agreement.

"What? W-wait a minute!" Dean held out his arms defensively as half the men in the building advanced on him. He turned to Sam.

"Sammy, tell them what really happened!"

Sam swivelled his eyes from an on edge Dean to the angry customers. From seconds his facial expression went from confused to a crumbled frown filled with despair.

"Why does he hurt me this way when this disease already hurts me so much?" He whined, throwing up his arms dramatically. "Why?" He dropped back onto his chair and slumped over the table pretending to break down.

Dean gaped at him as there were many outcries full of rage rippling through the diner.

"Get him out of here!"

One minute Dean had been sitting in the diner teasing his brother and waiting eagerly for the waitress to approach -either to find out about what food was being served or whether she was hot- and the next he was off his feet and being bundled out of the door.

With one big push Dean forced out of the diner, stumbling over his feet and almost meeting the floor. He spun around and stared at Sam through the window, many girls flanking him and comforting him while he held his hands tightly over the cap. Even Dean had to admit at this age he could still pull off the lost and lonely child look well. Damn.

As he stalked along the streets, stomach groaning moodily, Dean thought of what had just happened. For one he hadn't expected the kid to play along- Sam usually had such high morals, he must have been really pissed...

They thought Sam had cancer. he supposed it was quite funny really... no, it wasn't at all actually, when he thought about it.

What if Sam ever did get sick?

Suddenly Sam's patchy head didn't make him laugh anymore, instead Dean shuddered at the image. If Sam got sick, how would he even get chemotherapy? Going to a hospital could be risky, and treatment for cancer was long... could their father be able to make it work? Could Dean?

Dean didn't like his... this fear of what could possibly happen, and Dean wouldn't be able to stop it. Suddenly he was nine years old again, shotgun held loosely in his hand and watching a Shtriga hovering above his sleeping brother. He was powerless.

A sudden whack brought Dean back to the present. He looked over to his left and found he had punched a lamp post in anger. Resisting the urge to cradle his knuckles and whine over the horrible pain shivering up his arm to stop himself looking anymore stupid in public, Dean stormed back to the motel.

He wasn't powerless.

And he had to prove it somehow.

* * *

Sam returned to the motel later in the afternoon, feeling a lot better about his hair but a little uneasy about the stunt he had pulled earlier. Who would have thought going around with a practically bald head and mean older brother would get you a free meal? Sam bit his lip as he walked across the parking lot. It wasn't like he said he had cancer, he just didn't correct anyone else, he still felt bad though. It was an unethical thing to do and even the way the customers had all treated Dean made Sam slow down his pace, guilt weighing him down.

Taking his time to wipe his feet and fish out his keys from his pocket, Sam entered the room. Dean who had been leaning over a map turned his head and took a quick glance at Sam before turning back round.

"Hey." Sam said uncertainly.

Dean didn't reply.

Sam sighed. "Look I'm sorry for what happened earlier, I've been feeling kinda bad about it," he scratched the back of his neck, "but you can't exactly say you didn't see it coming."

Again, no answer from Dean.

Sam stamped his foot. "Would you say something?" He snapped.

"I'm going out." Dean said gruffly, and picked up a gun, scraping up bullets in his hand and loading it calmly.

Sam concerned eyes went from Dean to the gun to the packed bag by his bed. His eyes fell on the map, it was directions through the forest just outside this town. Sam had seen it before.

"Are you going after the werewolf? Did Dad call?" He asked.

"Yeah, I am. And no, he didn't." Dean replied, still standing with his back to his younger brother,

"What so you're going alone?" Sam said, alarmed.

Dean turned around, his face hard. "Well it beats sitting around here all useless.." Slinging the bag over his shoulder he stalked over to the door. Sam was there in a flash, standing between him and the exit.

"You're not going anywhere."

Dean snorted. "So it's your orders I'm following now?"

Sam's voice rose in defence. "Yeah! It is! I don't know why but you're not thinking straight so I'm going to do what dad says and make sure both of us keep away from that hunt."

Dean raised an eyebrow and glared at Sam. "Since when did you listen to what Dad says to you? Man what is up with you," Dean dropped the bag and gestured his arm strongly as he spoke, "whenever you're with him all you do is bitch and argue but then once in a blue moon you change like this suddenly... you become a little soldier and this whiny little hypocrite and think you can tell _me_ what to do!"

Sam reflected the harsh gaze and said with amazement, "Have you ever paid attention to those times? Haven't you ever noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

Sam lost his patience. He ranted, "I don't have to follow Dad's orders when he wants me to drop homework for hunts, or to ignore the kids at school so I don't have to make up crazy excuses for our lives, I can do what I want. But I promised myself that I'd follow his orders when it came to hunts, I don't want to get hurt and I don't want you or Dad to either!" his voice then became low, "I get it- injuries happen on hunts, we've all suffered it...But we don't need anymore by not listening to each other."

Dean recoiled, shifting from one foot to try and seriously thought over what Sam had said. "When did you decide all this exactly?"

The answer came immediately. "About two or three years ago when I saw you get hurt badly on a hunt... The only explanation Dad gave me was because you didn't follow his orders."

Dean's face dropped and his eyes flickered. Sam knew from his face that his brother remembered.

Dean scrunched up his nose at the sudden memories. "Wait, wasn't that the day you were being all smug so I tied you up 'till Dad got back?"

"Er...yeah."

"That was funny."

"No it wasn't. Look, Dean-"

"Ah! Alright!" Dean threw up his arms in surrender, and stalked back over to his bed after placing the gun by the side. Sam stood by the door awkwardly, unsure whether he was bluffing or not.

"What, that's it? I was ready for a fight." Sam said confused.

Reaching over for the television remote Dean shrugged. "I don't fight girls."

Sam leaned against the door thoughtfully. A smile grew on his lips. "Wait... this is your way of admitting I'm right isn't it!"

There was a pause.

"...Shut up."

Sam smirked triumphantly, and Dean pointed a finger warningly at him.

"Don't you dare look at me like that or I'll go find the duct tape." He half joked.

"I could take you on."

"Then I'll shave off what's left of your hair."

"I'd like to see you try!"

It was strange. Sam was growing older each day, more rebellious and less willing to listen to Dean. As much as it pissed him off, Dean couldn't help but feel in cases like this it wasn't such a bad thing. Sam knew when he was being irrational and he knew how to deal with it so well that Dean would end up following his orders. But at the same time it scared him, would they still get on in ten years time? Maybe one day Sam would push away from his family for good, sick of their complex life. Maybe one day Sam would get cancer, or move away or run away.

Who knew.

So why worry?

He wasn't the one to fret, and so for now,

Dean laughed.

* * *

Um, ta daaaaaa!

Hee, did you like this chapter? What did you think?

x

.


End file.
